It Started With a Whisper
by fictionismyreality
Summary: After failing an exam, Eli is required to hand in extra credit to boost his docked letter grade in English back to an A. He's given the assignment to write letters back and forth to Clare Edwards, a girl who's in the hospital dying from a brain tumor. Will letters of kindness result in romantic interests worth pursuing? Even with a time limit on her life? AU
1. Chapter 1

**This story is AU, I'm sure you'll catch on to that rather quickly. It's somewhat of an intro chapter. A prologue if you will. I hope you enjoy it. Please review and let me know what you think. Your words will give me the motivation to continue, if you decide that you would like this to continue. Thanks for reading.**

Through my years at Degrassi, I've learned many things. Beggar's can't be choosers. The underdogs are the easiest to go for if you're looking for someone to take out your aggression on. Never eat the mystery meat. You should never pick who you let as your friends. If you do that you'll end up alone. And most of all, life is a gift. Sure, you could've spared yourself the self taught lesson and learned that from Jack Dawson. But me? No. I have to learn things the hard way. I'm just a complicated person, as you are to find out. That in and of itself, may I say, is not complicated to figure out.

I transferred to Degrassi when I was in my 11th year of school when my dad was hired to work at a radio station in the city. We found a house in the suburbs and this high school just happened to be the only one around. The other high school that had been close to where we lived was Lakehurst. That building had burned down a few years prior. In fact, the students who attended the burned down high school were actually sent to Degrassi. I've heard my fair share of horror stories from that experience. But mostly, the school is at ease.

Then there's people who just don't like to keep that peace. People like Fitz. Full name: Mark Fitzgerald. Nickname: Narcissistic Pig. If hell existed and had a ruler, I bet it'd be him. Satan his right hand man. I'm not exactly sure why but the guy had it out for me from the start. Probably I was labeled "different". Kind of greasy, longer, black hair. Sharpie covered fingernails, headphones around my neck at all times (mainly to block out idiots such as Fitz), and dressed in black from head to toe. I wouldn't necessarily call myself gothic. But when you look like I do, no one else really knows what else to label you as.

Fitz wasn't your movie written bully who'd steal your lunch money and shove past you as you walked by. He was much worse. Much. Worse. He got into your head. Said things to you that he knew would leave a mark. He was a pro at both emotional and physical scaring. That's the worst type of bully if you must know. The type who can plant a seed of discouragement in your mind and feed off of the depression that grows there. And that's exactly what he did. For two years.

Though I wasn't his only victim. I say that in melancholy, not in joy. I would've been okay being the only one he spat his venom at but sadly that's not the case. There were others he was rude to, of course. But there was one other that he abused as bad, if not worse, than he did me. And oddly enough, that's how we became best friends. Adam Torres. Beanie wearing, bass playing, shy-guy, Adam Torres. When you first meet him, he won't say much. Unless you have something in common. Then his real personality comes out. All around nice kid, doesn't like trouble, but can kick major ass when he needs to. Oh and what else? Yeah. He just happens to be trans. But by looking at him, you might not even be able to tell. He passes.

Adam and I first met after both winning backstage passes to a Dead Hand concert that were given up to earn money for a school fundraiser. It was one hell of a night if you must know. We were in the same grade 11 honours English class, him being wicked smart enough to take that class as a grade 10 student, so we'd talk a bit then. But we really started bonding when it was discovered by Fitz and his football, homophobic buddy Owen discovered Adam's little secret and didn't think he belonged either. Threw him into a window on one of the hall doors. I witnessed it. Didn't help. Regretted that decision. But I did later go up to make sure he was alright. And that's when we decided to stick together, the two of us being outcasts and not having any other people to rely on or talk to. So we had each other's back.

He became someone I really started to confide in. We shared a lot with each other. You think guys keep all their feelings to themselves and don't express shit, but I can tell you that's a lie. Well maybe unless you're Fitz. I knew Adam like the back of my hand and he knew the same about me. Heck if my parents saw him walk through the door after school they'd know to set out an extra plate for dinner. Knew his likes and dislikes meal wise. And not only was Adam some sort of science and literary genius, he was also well beyond his years in the subject of common sense. That seemed to be a combo that was hard to come by. But this guy had it.

It wasn't often that Fitz caused us huge trouble. It was usually just a backhanded comment or a shove in the hall. I actually wish that's all it had been, if the comments weren't torturous. Then there were other times that all hell would break loose. Those didn't happen often considering that there were usually consequences involved such as detention or some sort of school service project. All of which involved some sort of cleaning after school that no one ever enjoyed. There was one particular time though that had to really take the trophy of our wars. It was a moment long in the making and it sure as hell was worth every second of it.

It was exam week, the entire school high strung as it is. Teachers cramming in loads of final information that we needed to know as students, too many review sheets to count and lots of flashcards. That's how exam weeks are, regardless of what high school you go to. Adam and I were sitting against a section of lockers outside of our English class during study period trying to make sense of the book we were reading. _The Awakening_ by Kate Chopin. It wasn't one of my favourites and a lot of us felt like our English teacher, Ms. Dawes, pointed out way too many metaphors and connections that Chopin actually intended on being in the book.

"Okay, question three. '_Early in The Awakening, the narrator remarks that Léonce thinks of Edna as "the sole object of his existence". What evidence does the novel provide to support this declaration?_" Adam looked to me as if waiting for me to spit out some profound, intelligent answer. Like I'd actually know it. I was doing well in the class but I wasn't a complete literary genius.

"Aren't you the book brainiac?" I asked, collapsing the book in my lap before taking another look at our list of questions. I was getting tired and frustrated and I could tell Adam was taking the same effect. It was easy to get out on exam week with all of the studying and questions. "You answer this one, I got the last one after rereading the _entire_ book."

Adam rolled his eyes and sighed, flipping to the front of the novel to try and find the quote. "You didn't reread the entire book," he muttered. "Or at least you didn't have to."

"Fuck it." I leaned my head back on the lockers a bit too hard, squinting my eyes at the impact and just tried to forget about all the work coming ahead. "I don't think this could be any more difficult. We've done like a sit ton of essays on this book already, I'm just not feeling it anymore."

"Not feeling the romance anymore, goth boy?" Opening my eyes, I registered in my mind who the voice belonged to and what exactly they wanted. I scanned from the floor to his face, Fitz standing directly in front of us. _Perfect_. "Tranny and Doctor Doom tired of the relationship? What exactly does that make you? Gay? Or is this just some weird sexual experiment that you get kicks out of?"

I held my glare with his, biting my tongue and trying not to really cause any other drama. Really that was the last thing I needed before exams. Even with my past wars with Fitz, it was sometimes easier to just ignore the remarks and get on with the day. But it seemed like I was the only one who had that state of mind. I noticed Adam starting to stand up and looked over to see what he was about to do. At first I thought he'd just gather his things and leave, being the type of guy he was, but no. That would've just been too easy for either of us.

Getting up, Adam dropped his notebook and pen to the ground, coming face-to-face with Fitz. For what people considered a little guy, Adam was tall. Just thin boned and a bit frail. Which is why his next actions shocked me so much. Without warning, his fist collided with Fitz's stomach, completely falcon punching the guy and pushing him to the ground.

"Adam, what are you doing?" I started to get up, watching as Fitz held his stomach, wincing in pain. I hadn't known Adam was that strong. But the boy didn't say a word answering my question. He just picked up his stuff and headed down the hallway. I could've sworn you could see smoke blow out of his ears. I gathered my things and trailed behind him, only taking one glance back at Fitz to see him yelling at us.

"I'm fighting your ass after school!" he screamed.

"Do it!" Adam had retorted without even taking another look back, just completely and thoroughly pissed to the core. People stared as we walked down the hall, which wasn't all that shocking. You just didn't punch Fitz unless you were wanting a death sentence. By the time we turned the corner, I grabbed Adam by the shoulder and shrugged him back to face me. He jerked his shoulder out of my grasp and glared at me as if I were the one who spewed the comments in the first place.

"What the hell was that, dude?"

"Aren't you sick of it?" he asked, his arms now relaxing by his sides. "Sick of the torment almost daily? The comments, the physical abuse, the everything? Or are you just fucking sadistic? I can't put up with this anymore. I hate Fitz, I wanna make him hurt."

I shook my head, not necessarily disagreeing with Adam's thought process but his actions. "Dude, I'm sick of it, too. I get it. I'm sick of the jokes and whatever the hell he does but I don't think this is the right approach here, you could get yourself seriously beaten up."

"And you don't think I could do it? You don't think I could take down Fitz, why because you think I'm just a wimpy girl?" I froze at Adam's comment and shook my head. If anything that was the last thing I thought of him.

"That's not it, Adam, I just don't see this ending well. I mean, hell you saw what I've done. Fitz has beaten me up time and time again when I've tried to get the upper hand and it just ends with more violence. I don't wanna see that happening to you."

"What so you're the only one who can take him?" Without waiting for my reply, Adam pushed past me on his way to his next class which I think was chemistry. He was pissed beyond belief and rightly so. I just didn't understand what this had to do with me at all.

"I didn't say that," I confirmed. "I'm just saying that you're my best friend and I don't wanna see you get pounded on. Fitz is a hell of a tough guy and not that many people who fight him come out without a broken nose or busted lip."

"Well if you're not gonna back me up then don't bother showing up. I can fight my own battles and I don't need your petty ass trying to talk me out of completely destroying that guy."

"You can't-"

"I _can_," he interrupted, lips drawing out into a thin line. I had never seen Adam so enraged before. And I knew I wasn't going to like the outcome of it all. "And I will. Go take your fucking exam." Adam walked into the classroom next to us and practically slammed the door behind him. I knew I couldn't let him fight Fitz alone, there's no way he'd win. And that wasn't because I thought he was some "wimpy girl". It was because I knew Fitz would pummel him because that's who Fitz was. I had to help Adam fight him after class.

The countdown to the final bell was a bit sickening, honestly. Because I just knew that Adam and I were moments and moments away from getting our asses kicked. I didn't find Adam by his locker where we usually met to start home after class and I knew that's because he was somewhere out in the parking lot behind the school waiting for Fitz. So without another thought, I headed out there myself. And sure enough, there he was. By the fence, his hands behind his neck, pacing and waiting for doomsday.

"Hey there, Rocky," I called, gaining the immediate reaction of Adam turning around to see me. Of course I wasn't expecting a hug-filled greeting but I wasn't expecting the icy shoulder either. It was a side of Adam I'd never seen before and honestly one I didn't every really want to see again. He was so…detached. "Don't get too excited, I'm here to tell you, you're an idiot.

"You could've just texted and saved the effort. If you're here to talk me out of it, I've already made up my mind. I'm fighting. You can go on your merry way if you want."

I knew that I wasn't going to change his mind about it. That was one thing about Adam. When he had his mind set on something, he was as stubborn as a mule. You couldn't change him. That was that. So I could do one of two things. I could leave, letting Adam fight for himself and just wish him a quick word of moral support. Or. I could stay and fight with him. I can't fight Adam's battles, but this was ours to fight. We both needed to take a stand against Fitz and this had to be it.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Hey, asshat, you bring reinforcement? Damn, I was hoping you'd bring me more of a challenge." Adam looked over at me, giving me a bit of a "let's kick some ass" look and I just nodded. We both walked up to him, bracing ourselves for what was about to take place. Well, I was more bracing myself. Adam looked like he was ready to kill.

"Yeah? Bring it!" The kid started shoving Fitz down the pavement. I'd never seen him so worked up before but I guess that's what happens when you have everyday torment with no outlet. But I was afraid Adam's aggression was going to be a bit out of hand. And get him beaten to the bone.

"Adam, take it easy, dude," I tried to reason with him, pulling him back by the shoulder. But he was having none of that. Adam kept lunging towards Fitz, pushing him back and back and the guy just took it. Probably because he knew he could take us both down in a second. And that he did. The second Adam took an actual swing at him, Fitz moved out of the way and decided he was going to try his shot at me, hitting my right in the mouth.

I whipped around, feeling my lip begin to swell and threw out my arms to try and break my fall as I collided with the pavement. Of course, I had to spit out a shit ton of blood, as well as try to wipe it on the sleeve of my shirt and get back up before Fitz beat the crap out of Adam. Looking over to them, Adam was still punching Fitz in the chest and the guy just took it, a sadistic smile on his face the entire time.

"Come on," he taunted. "I can't hit a girl." I caught up to the two just as Adam was beginning to really pound on him. He'd hit his chest over and over and shove him backwards and of course Fitz wouldn't lay a hand on the guy to fight back.

"I! AM NOT! A GIRL!" That was all it took for Fitz to just lose it. Adam's words seemed to be some sort of green light to him and without any warning at all, shoved Adam sideways and into the chain-link fence that was next to us. He hit the metal with a grunt and just kind of shrunk down.

I caught up to Fitz and just as he turned around from laughing at Adam who was hunched on the ground at this point, and sung my fist at his face the hardest that I could. Of course…that was the only punch that was witnessed.

And that's where it all began.

"If you fall asleep in detention, Mr. Goldsworthy, you're only going to wrack up more days on that file of yours." I slowly opened my eyes and looked up to the voice. Ms. Dawes was sitting at her desk, grading papers with a red pencil.

I sat back in my seat and sighed. I had gotten three weeks of detention for the fight. Degrassi had a zero tolerance policy for violence so the harshest punishments were delivered. This was my "first offence" so I'd only gotten detention. Fitz always got himself in all sorts of trouble and so he was suspended for those three weeks. And Adam? Well, just thank Momma Torres for bailing his ass out of that one. Adam's mom was on the school board and almost always acted like she had some bug up her butt when around people like Principal Simpson or anyone who tried to hurt Adam or his brother, Drew. This being no exception.

"You know instead of there sleeping the time away, you could be productive."

I shrugged and sat back in my chair. It was Friday after school. The end of the week. The last thing I wanted to do was to be pushed to do more schoolwork. "No disrespect, Miss, but I'm not really motivated to do any sort of studying."

Ms. Dawes got up from her desk, bringing a packet of papers with her and dropped them on my desk in front of me, sitting on the chair in front of me. I raised an eyebrow at her as she turned the packet and pointed to the big red letter on the front. My English exam grade.

"Maybe you should do some extra credit then. A C isn't going to cut it in this class, Eli. You're a good writer and have always done really well on your assignments. I think you were just a bit distracted on other things than to be…bothered by Chopin's writings." I pressed my lips together in a line. She was right. I was usually a really good student in English. In fact, I got A's on most of my assignments. My errors were mostly minimal and I would never have to rewrite an essay. But with this past book? Let's just say, I had a slip of interest.

I let out a deep breath and played with the rings on my fingers a bit. "What do you expect me to do for extra credit? Write an essay? Do a film analysis? Some sort of author report?"

The woman smiled and took the exam with her back to her desk. She nodded for me to follow to the desk and I did, wondering what I was going to have to do to bring my now dropped letter grade back up to an A. Going through some papers on the desk, she pulled out a large manila envelope and the papers that were inside. They were all paper-clipped together with a picture of a girl attached to the front. I took the papers from her, flipping through them. They were medical documents.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"For your extra credit, you're going to write letters. To her. Her name is Clare Edwards. She's a cancer patient at the Toronto Cancer Alliance and is in need of a bit of friendship."

I raised an eyebrow and looked at her picture some more. She had thick curls that came down to her shoulders, defined lips, pink cheeks and the most gorgeous blue eyes I'd ever seen in my life. "What, does she not have any friends or family?"

Ms. Dawes shrugged and took a seat at her desk again, looking up at me with a smile on her face. "Her family is going through some major…adjustments. I can't tell you much about that. If Clare would like to confide in you, she will. Think of this as a pen pal assignment. For the next three weeks that you're in detention, instead of sitting there doing nothing productive, you will write her letters. And in turn I will raise your grade back to the A I know you really deserve. I won't read the letters, I'll just simply mail them for you and give you her replies. How does that sound?"

I stared at the papers in silence for a bit, not really knowing what to say. It would be kind of weird, in my opinion, to just start randomly writing to some girl who was dying of cancer and try to befriend her. But then again…I was used to that feeling of having no one. And I couldn't imagine what it would be like to be sick in a hospital and have no one. "Or you could reread _The Awakening_ and write a proper analysis on it. Your choice."

I held the packet of papers up to Ms. Dawes and smiled a bit. There was no way I was going to read the book all over again and fail the same assignment I had messed up. So it was decided then that for the next three weeks I would be the pen pal to this cancer patient named Clare Edwards. I found my way back to my seat, still having another half hour left in the detention period and took out a blank sheet of paper. Now let me tell you, I'm a writer so I'm used to words. I know how to phrase things in ways that intrigue people. But writing a letter a complete stranger? It felt like one of the hardest challenges yet. Especially when that girl had a life threatening disease and you knew that you probably shouldn't bring up how sorry you felt for her that she might not live much longer.

_Dear Clare Edwards,_

_For starters, hello. My name is Eli. I guess your hospital has you signed up for some pen pal type of system and I just so happened to be so lucky to be given your file. It doesn't really say too much about you, so I guess that's what you're going to have to start with. And that means you don't know anything about me. I'm in grade 11 at Degrassi Community School. My passions are writing and film. I have a best friend named Adam Torres. He's one of the greatest guys you could ever meet, really. Completely honest and loyal. Exactly what you need in a friend. That's about as interesting as I get though. Believe me, if I told you anything else, you'd be snoozing away. So I guess this first letter will be kind of short. But I want you to tell me about yourself. Tell me about your hopes and dreams. Fears and regrets. Your family. Your likes and dislikes. I swear, I'm not a creeper. Just genuinely intrigued. I hope you find this letter in the slightest bit entertaining. Or comforting. At least I hope you don't absolutely hate it. Write back soon, I'll be waiting to hear from you. _

_Sincerely,  
Eli Goldsworthy_

_P.S. You have pretty eyes. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you guys for all of the reviews and comments on this story so far! I'm glad you all like it and hope you like this chapter as well. You get to hear a bit about Clare in this one so it's starting to all really connect. Your comments and reviews make my day :)**

\\

My math homework was a mess. Now typically, when people say things like that, you look at their papers and they're covered in formulas and numbers and odd graphs and other things I don't understand all too well. My math homework? Scribbles. Words. Paragraphs to stories that I should finish or continue or just random thoughts that didn't belong to anything in particular. But that's why I had decided to become a writer. Not a mathematician.

"So your answer to number five is…_her eyes were as clear as crystal blue skies, her lips as pink as a sunset. And I swore in that moment I could feel every fiber of my being wanting to reach out to her. To touch those lips, run my fingers through her golden curls. To kiss_-."

"Okayyyy, Adam." I flipped my paper over and sighed. "Focus on your own homework." The boy chuckled and closed his history book, shoving it back into his backpack. It didn't matter what I did. Adam had to make some smart ass remark.

Reaching over, he grabbed a cookie that my mother had conveniently made earlier that day. I guess she assumed Adam would be over that day since he hadn't been all weekend and it was already Sunday. He was really over that often. I usually avoided his house unless it was mostly empty. The Torres family just has way too much going on all the time. Whereas my residence was a bit more peaceful. Which Adam took as kind of a home away from home the days he couldn't handle the hustle bustle.

Before I could even think that it would be a good idea to throw the piece of paper away, Adam snatched it from in front of me and turned it back around, continuing to read the words that I'd scribbled down. I just rolled my eyes as he laughed and pinched my temple with my fingers.

"Who is this _angelic beauty_?"

Nothing needed to be said since Adam reached across the counter and picked up a pile of paperwork that had been sitting there, I thought, discreetly under one of my binders. Unfortunately I didn't do a very good job at hiding it since you could see half of the picture attached from underneath. Adam took the paperclip off and started shuffling through the papers, eventually getting back to the picture of the girl on top.

"Clare Edwards?" he asked. "Why do you have a picture of her and a bunch of papers on her medical history? Is this who you're writing about?"

I snatched the picture from his hands and retrieved the papers. Adam was looking at me like I was some creepy stalker which wasn't the case at all. "It's for an extra credit assignment. I have to write letters to her. She's a girl at the Toronto cancer hospital place."

"She has brain cancer." I nodded and sighed, looking down at the picture. She really was beautiful. She didn't even look sick in the picture. It was a school photo which I guess was taken before she was diagnosed. I wondered how recent it was. For all I know, she could be on the brink of death, lifeless eyes and have all her hair shaved. Not that that would make her any less beautiful. I doubt it would've. But I had no idea how much the cancer had progressed since her diagnosis or even when that was.

"I thought she moved." Adam's voice was so quiet I didn't even think I had heard it. And I sure as hell didn't understand what he had said since it had completely confused me.

"Wait…what?"

"I though she moved," he repeated, taking the picture back in his hands and looking over it. He stared at it for a few moments like he somehow knew her. And…well obviously it seemed like he did. "She went to Degrassi, she's in my grade. I thought she moved. I didn't know she left because of cancer. You think that the teachers, especially Ms. Dawes, would've said something. She was in our English class."

I stared blankly at Adam for a few moments, trying to process what he had said. This girl was in our class and I hadn't even noticed? I got a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach as it all sank in. She could've died by now and I wouldn't have even known. She just disappeared from the school without notice. Or at least without mine and I had a class with her. It made me wonder how many people had.

"She's friends with Alli Bhandari, that girl on the Science Olympics team with me. She's in the gifted program. I've seen her name on the list before. You know that empty desk behind you? That's where she sat."

"No, that…I would've noticed her."

Adam smirked and looked over at me. He tipped his head a bit and gave me a glance that I wasn't really quite comfortable with. "Why? Because she's your angelic beauty? Your muse?" I kept quiet, not really wanting to defend my stupidity over the matter and just shook my head, continuing to study the photograph. How did I not even see her as familiar? "She was only there for about three weeks and hey, to you she was just another kid among the sea of others you didn't know. You just transferred."

"Yeah, but so did you. And you noticed her."

The boy shrugged, looking at some of her paperwork. "I had other classes with her. And I've spoken to her a few times. She's super nice. Super smart. Then one day she just wasn't there which was weird since she was always so punctual. And then the days she was there were few and far between. Then she just disappeared. Like I said, I thought she moved. Didn't really think anything of it."

"Well I'm supposed to write letters to her. Everyday. For three weeks. I guess I'll get to know the hidden personal life of the teenage cancer patient." I sighed again and collected all of the papers and her photo. The whole situation was starting to really bother me and I didn't like it. Just knowing that someone could disappear like that and eventually pass away without anyone saying so or really noticing didn't sit right with me.

I knew then that these letters were going to be of greater impact than just some way to bump up my grade in English. Adam had said this girl had that friend but I wasn't sure how many others she had. Or how many other people even knew she had cancer. And I had to keep that mindset when writing to her. Or at least that's what I told myself. If I just treated her like an assignment, the letters wouldn't mean much. I knew that would reflect in my writing. That was the last thing I wanted. I wanted her to feel important. Noticed. Like someone cared that she was sick. That's all sick people want, right? To know people care. That's what keep people from giving up. And I knew for a fact, even if I didn't know her, I didn't want her to give up.

\\

"I think everything is good for today. Everything is looking normal, vital wise. You're still pretty strong which is really key since you're going to be having that second operation soon. Then more radiation. We're going to kick this cancer in the butt, Clare, I promise."

As the nurse finished writing notes down on the paperwork on her clipboard, Clare let out a quiet sigh, playing with the blanket that was keeping her body warm. Hospital gowns weren't the greatest at covering or maintaining heat in the body. So the heated blanket was a blessing. The words the nurse had spoken echoed through her mind. _We're going to kick this cancer in the butt, Clare, I promise_.

The words weren't planted in her brain as one hundred percent truth. Sure, Clare didn't want to just give up and say she was going to die from this, but at the same time, she didn't think they could be so completely positive that she'd survive either. She'd already had months of radiation therapy and one surgery, with another coming in the next few weeks. It was all so frightening to her. The only other person she'd known with cancer was Spinner Mason and Principal Simpson. She hadn't known Simpson when he had it, though. Just Spinner. And that was years ago. He had made it, he'd survived. But all cases were different.

The nurse gave Clare a quick smile before leaving the room, her mother walking in at the same time. Clare smiled to her mom and leaned back into her pillows, adjusting the bandana on her head. It was weird to Clare, not having any hair. Her whole life she'd had really thick, curly hair. At one point it was actually pretty long. She'd only recently cut it off that summer, just by choice. She wasn't diagnosed with the tumor until about two weeks into the school year. Her hair had been shaved off two weeks after that.

It was an emotional moment for her. Because that meant this was all really happening. She remembered crying in the bathroom as her mother shaved it all off.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" Helen Edwards came over and sat on the edge of Clare's bed, placing a hand on her leg. "Did you take your medication and everything?"

Clare nodded, still fiddling with the edge of her blanket. "Yeah. I took everything. And the nurse did her usual one of fifty daily checkups. I think I'm good."

"And how's the nausea today?"

The girl laughed and shrugged. If she got a dime for every time she was asked that question a day, she'd be able to buy a mansion on a hillside. "It's normal, I guess. Right now I'm fine so I think that's a good sign."

The nausea was something that had hit Clare hard when she first got sick. She couldn't keep food down at all. And it'd hit just randomly. She'd make numerous bathroom breaks at school and she felt like she'd just continue to get sick over and over. It turned into the point where she was afraid to eat meals because she didn't want to throw up. That usually didn't make the situation any better though. And that was the first thing to concern her mother.

When Clare was first diagnosed, it came as a huge shock to the family. It wasn't anything anyone could really take down, if they were to be honest. The family had just been going through so much lately. Darcy, Clare's sister, was at that point in Europe doing more mission work there and her parents had just recently divorced. Their family had divided and Clare often felt alone and abandoned. She took solitude in her room, reading and writing, not getting out too much unless she was with Alli.

Being around either one of her parents was a struggle for her. Her dad had had an affair and moved out to go live with her. The lady's name was Irene, from what she knew, and they lived in a condo in the city. Her mother and her kept the home and it had been the two of them since the middle of summer. Clare's father would visit frequently at the hospital, of course, but wasn't there round the clock like Helen seemed to be. For her it was either she was at work or with Clare. It was something that Clare didn't take for granted, either. The divorce had made her distant from her parents, but this seemed to bring her closer. Or at least that was true with her mother. Clare never could really find a way to look at Randal the same after what he'd done.

"Would you like some lunch? I bet you're hungry. You didn't eat much for breakfast. How about I go to the cafeteria and get us both something to eat?" Helen didn't wait for a response and gave Clare a quick kiss on the forehead, then leaving the room and heading to the floor below.

It happened that way sometimes. Helen had gotten in the routine of getting Clare food without her asking or really wanting any on the days she didn't eat much. It would be a combination of Clare just being too tired to eat and not hungry but Helen wouldn't like her answer of not wanting anything. So when she'd come back with a meal, Clare would have a few bites and then save the rest for later, when she did eventually get hungry. Sometimes she'd just snack on the one meal throughout the day. Her appetite wasn't anything she could really control. With all the medicines flowing through her body, they sure did a number of what she did and didn't want to eat and when.

The whole ordeal, along with just being sick, had done a number on her. Since first being admitted to the hospital, Clare had lost quite a bit of weight. Helen, being a mother, grew extremely concerned over the case but the nurses and doctors assured her that it was just all part of the "cancer package". She'd be fine as long as she got nutrition, and she was. Just not in the ways she used to.

Clare closed her eyes as soon as Helen had left and let out a deep sigh. She was feeling alright that day. Though there wasn't a day where she felt actually good. That's what cancer did, though. She was sick. Incredibly sick. And the sooner she was out of her misery, the better. She just hoped it would be due to her survival and recovery. It was easy for her at first to be optimistic around people and in her mind. Clare was never one to give up. But lately she'd just felt worn down and incredibly lonely. She'd get visitors here and there outside of her parents. Mainly from Connor, Alli or Jenna. But Connor and Alli had the Science Olympics, which was in full swing, and Jenna was on Power Squad. So their visits were sometimes few and far between.

Her plan until her mother got back from lunch was to get a bit of a nap. She'd been woken up around seven to do tests, then her father was over and her mother, and it was now one in the afternoon. But of course plans always had a way of changing for her. Clare's nurse, Rose, came back into the room, a giant smile on her face. Clare pushed herself to sit up with her hands as the woman approached and handed her an envelope.

"You have mail, Miss Edwards. Looks like it's someone from your school. I'll be back soon after your lunch to check in."

"Thanks," Clare replied, taking the envelope in her hands and looking at the cover. Rose left and Clare inspected the letter. The name on the top left corner said it was from Degrassi Community School. Clare wondered if it was some sort of letter from Principal Simpson saying that the staff was still looking forward to a speedy recovery. She'd gotten those letters every once and a while. They were nice, but she wished they could have just come in and said hello. She didn't like seeing people everyday, she wouldn't feel well enough to. But a few different faces would be nice.

Instead of a typed and printed letter from her principal, though, Clare found a handwritten, folded letter on lined paper. The letters were a bit messy and written in blue ink. Her eyes followed every word, smiling as she read what had been hand printed.

_Dear Clare Edwards,  
For starters, hello. My name is Eli. I guess your hospital has you signed up for some pen pal type of system and I just so happened to be so lucky to be given your file. It doesn't really say too much about you, so I guess that's what you're going to have to start with. And that means you don't know anything about me. I'm in grade 11 at Degrassi Community School. My passions are writing and film. I have a best friend named Adam Torres. He's one of the greatest guys you could ever meet, really. Completely honest and loyal. Exactly what you need in a friend. That's about as interesting as I get though. Believe me, if I told you anything else, you'd be snoozing away. So I guess this first letter will be kind of short. But I want you to tell me about yourself. Tell me about your hopes and dreams. Fears and regrets. Your family. Your likes and dislikes. I swear, I'm not a creeper. Just genuinely intrigued. I hope you find this letter in the slightest bit entertaining. Or comforting. At least I hope you don't absolutely hate it. Write back soon, I'll be waiting to hear from you. _

_Sincerely,  
Eli Goldsworthy_

_P.S. You have pretty eyes. _

A smile crept the girl's face as she read the last line, wondering how on earth this boy could have possibly known what she looked at, let alone make the judgment that her eyes were pretty. It didn't matter though, she had gotten a letter. Something no one had done before. Sure, she got cards, but they were so impersonal. Something bought in a store and signed. The words on the cards weren't theirs. They were from the mind of someone in a corporate office somewhere in the world. But this was all from the mind of this boy. Eli.

The name sounded familiar to Clare and she tried to think if there was any place she'd heard it before. Knowing he was in grade eleven told her that he was probably in her English class. It was the only class Clare had that she shared with anyone from another grade. Another thing that kind of confused her was that the hospital had signed her up for this pen pal service without her knowledge. Why they'd done so, she wasn't sure. She didn't take it to heart though, it could just be something they did for all the patients who were missing school. It was still nice to receive the letter, and Clare was grateful. It could get her mind off of things and give her something to do. Someone to talk to. And this Eli guy sounded like a nice guy. So that was a bonus.

Reaching over to the desk next to her, Clare picked up her diary and pen and opened to a blank page. She wanted to reply right away knowing that the next day would be Monday and she wanted to get the letter to him as soon as possible. It wasn't often at all that Clare got excited about anything so this was sort of her motivation in that moment to stop dwelling on what was going on and to just act like a normal person, sending a letter to another very normal person.

_Dear Eli,_

_Thank you so much for your letter! It really means a lot to me that you would write me, you have no idea. You sound like a very interesting and insightful person, so if you would like, you could tell me more about yourself if you feel like. I don't think those few sentences will truly do you justice. I guess we'll both get to know each other more as the letters go on, if that's what you choose to do. _

_As you may know, I'm in grade ten. I'm fifteen years old. My interests are also writing, and journalism. I read a lot as well. My favourite author is Jane Austin. As far as my hopes and dreams go, as of right now I'm just hoping that I get out of the hospital quickly. They're not very fun places to be in and having nurses buzzing around you at all hours isn't too exciting. But also, I would love to be a journalist, as I had mentioned one of my interests being. One day, I know for a fact, I will write for the Toronto Interpreter. It's been a dream of mine since I was a little girl. _

_I don't know how you know what I look like, commenting on what you said about my eyes. Thank you, by the way, that was sweet. But I don't think you would know what I look like. Unless my memory is correct and you're in my English class. Your name sounds familiar and that's the only class I have that I share with anyone in grade eleven. Though I can't quite picture your face in my mind, I apologize. You must have a far better memory than I do. _

_How is Degrassi going, by the way? I haven't really heard much from anyone lately so I wouldn't know. Who are you friends with, how are things for you there? I hope all is well. I do miss the school and wish I could join you guys. Soon I will. I'll be back in the halls of Degrassi soon. I hope to hear from you again! Your letter has made my day. _

_Take Care,  
Clare Edwards_

\\

"I feel like such an ass," I blurted, staring at the paper in front of me. Adam sat down at the lunch table next to me as I made my comment, trying to figure out what I was talking about. He took the letter from my hands and went over the words, smiling a bit as he did.

Clare had written back over the weekend and Ms. Dawes had given me the letter the day before in detention. I hadn't written her back yet and decided to do my homework that period instead. Actually seeing that she had replied with such a letter, actually thanking me for writing to her made me feel slightly like a horrible person. I'd written to her for an English assignment, not mentioning that in the letter of course, and she seemed to think that I'd just chosen to write to her out of the goodness in my heart. Which, was completely false, because there wasn't any there to begin with.

"Looks like she's interested in keeping the letters going. Are you up for it." I laughed a bit as Adam seemed to reread the letter again.

"Well I kind of have to, I need that extra credit."

That's when I got the death glare from Adam and he put the paper down. "Are you really just going to do this for the letter grade?" he asked, a bit disappointed in my answer. "Come on, she's a nice person and she's in the hospital for cancer. If anything, you should be writing to her to make her happy. It doesn't sound like too many people actually go to see her or even write to her. She said your letter made her day."

I sighed, knowing Adam was right and took the letter back, folding it up and putting it back in the envelope. I wasn't really sure how to reply to it without telling her that this was all just for an assignment. She probably wouldn't take that very well and would be disappointed. In a way I was kind of using her. But then why had Dawes told me to do this for extra credit? Didn't she know that if Clare found out she'd feel used? I shook the thought off and focused on what Adam had said.

"I won't tell her it's for an assignment, I'm not stupid. And you're right. She sounds nice. Or well you I guess know from meeting her. We have similar interests in a way and we could talk about that, I guess. But I am going to tell her that I saw a picture of her and that's how I know what she looks like. I don't want her getting the impression that I really remember her or she might ask questions that I won't know the answers to."

"Just don't make her feel objectified. Girls hate that. Well…people hate that. It's a simple act of courtesy." I put the envelope in my backpack and continued on with my lunch. It occurred to me that Clare and I, it seemed, were going to be getting to know each other pretty well over the next few weeks in these letters. And I wondered if the letters was all that was really necessary. By the standards of Ms. Dawes it was but, she didn't really sound like she had many visitors either. I had just assumed this was the only letter anyone had sent her. Which was sad in my opinion.

I wasn't really sure if that was appropriate, either. I'd only heard back from her one time and didn't really know who she was. Maybe she didn't even like having visitors. Some people don't. My grandmother would only see family when she was sick and in the hospital. But then again, Clare was a teenager. She needed to be social, right? Unless she was introverted and liked her quiet. I decided that going to the hospital probably wasn't the best idea just yet. I didn't know enough about her. I didn't know what I would say. We had barely just met and I didn't want the experience to be awkward at all. So instead I just decided to stick with the letters. I don't think she'd be happy to see me, either. Not necessarily mad or not wanting to, it just probably wouldn't excite her.

It wasn't until detention later that day that I had decided to write her back. If she liked the first letter so much, she'd probably appreciate another one soon. And if I didn't hand one in to Ms. Dawes, I wouldn't be getting that extra credit at all. So I took out my journal and pen and decided to reply. It was a longer reply than the one before. I figured that if I was going to talk to her, I should write more than just a few sentences. I told her the truth about the photograph, not remembering what she looked like but knew just from there that she had beautiful eyes, because, really, she did. Gorgeous eyes, even. Just like the rest of her. But I left that last detail out. I didn't want her to think I was some creepy admirer.

…_I'm glad that my letter made your day, I really do. Didn't think it would too much. But I'm glad it did. Friend wise, I'm more of the type who pick carefully. The person I hang out with mostly is Adam Torres. I think you know him? He mentioned he knows you and remembers you. We're both sorry that you're going through this and hope you have a quick recovery from this cancer. You seem like a determined person from what you've said so I'm sure you'll be better in no time. _

_There is one question about you that I do have though. It's going to seem kind of weird that I'm asking you this but I do hope you're honest with your response. You need to be because this is kind of important. And since I don't really know any of your friends I need to ask you directly. How long have you known you've had the brain tumor? Like I said, weird question, but I'm curious for various reasons. Hope to hear back from you soon. _

_Sincerely,  
Eli Goldsworthy_


End file.
